Her Pride, His prejudice
by Dramione84
Summary: *********CURRENTLY ON HIATUS**************** Inspired by Pride and Prejudice 2005 film adaptation here is my 1st attempt at fanfiction for you all, DRAMIONE (Draco is Her Darcy!) Will she be able to let go of her pride? will he be able to give up his mudblood prejudices? will he renounce the future Lucius has planned for him as a death eater!
1. Chapter 1

Hermoine was having a wonderful evening. She knew everyone was talking about her "romance" with Viktor Krum but despite what a certain Rita Skeeter had penned, there was nothing "romantic" about their relationship, any more than there was anything "romantic" about her relationships with Harry and Ron. Viktor was not terribly "loquacious" as she had informed Harry in confidence, he enjoyed watching her study, fascinated by her calming presence and the way she didnt swoon or faun over him like most girls did when he walked by. His presence was a curious mix of intensity and annoyance that Hermoine found oddly comforting. He, despite his on-pitch presence, was a shy young man, clearly emotionally dominated by his headmaster, Igor Karkarov.

She had accepted his invitation to be his partner for the Yule Ball gladly, knowing that the two had formed a quiet bond of mutual understanding, each repressing part of their natural personalities in order to fit in at Hogwarts. Hermoine was proud to be muggle-born but found herself needing to surpress her muggle personality, while for Viktor it was the supression of his shyness. He didnt want to invite one of the many girls who followed him about the grounds for fear that they would suffocate him throughout the evening, whereas with Hermoine he knew she would be pleasant company, a partner for the necessary traditions associated with the Yule Ball, but would equally give him space to enjoy the evening with his comrades from Durmstrang, while he without jealousy or malice would allow her to enjoy her evening either by his side or with her closest friends, Harry, Ron and Ginny.

Harry and Ron, however, did not seem to understand this unspoken agreement between Hermoine and Viktor. Ron was acting, it seemed to Hermoine, like a petulant child as well as a jilted lover. Harry, clearly stuck in the middle, had thought it best not to get involved in their silent argument but had somehow found himself sat quietly to one side of the Great Hall in a show of support for his brooding best friend.

Hermoine tried to put the argument to one side and politely invited Harry and Ron to join her and Viktor for drinks however that had resulted in a bitter argument between her and Ron which had not gone unnoticed by several of their peers. Hermoine had tried again to explain that she was simply fostering good relations between the two schools, as this was the whole point of the Tri Wizard Tournament but Ron refused to see past his jealous rage and Hermoine, full of pride, refused to allow Ron to spoil everything.

Holding her head high, she walked away from Ron as though they had nothing more than a minor disagreement and found herself joining her closest female companion, Ginny and her partner for the evening, Neville, who were enjoying an animated conversation with Seamus, which, of course, meant the topic of discussion was Quidditch.

Ginny noticed her approach and smiled cordially at Hermoine who was now at her side

"wonderful evening isnt it?" Hermoine greated her confidant

"yes, although Neville and Seamus here do not think the Harpies will win the cup this season so clearly they had their pumpkin juice spiked this evening" Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes

Hermoine smiled softly as the two young men began their arguments again, insistent that Ginny's assertion was wrong, just wrong.

The sadness in Hermoine's eyes did not go unnoticed and as much as Ginny loved to talk Quidditch, she also knew when Hermoine needed someone to listen to her in a quiet corner while she vented her frustrations.

"There is no convincing these two" she said, linking arms with Hermoine "come, lets go get some pumpkin juice and leave them to it!" she whispered sidelong as they left their companions in mid argument.

While they waited patiently for their drinks, Ginny gently prodded Hermoine

"is my idiot brother up to his usual ass-like behaviour?" she asked, sympathetically.

"of course!" replied Hermoine, brushing a few loose strands of hair away from her face, so as to discreetly wipe away the silent tears that betrayed her otherwise stoic demenour.

"some things never change do they?" Ginny replied, "he never was one for understanding women, or how to behave properly at formal gatherings and he does rather have the chronic ability to put his foot in his mouth, so much so that i often wonder how hes not been set to the infirmary for it! she giggled.

At this, Hermoine could not help but break out into a laugh that seemed to release a lot of the tension she was feeling.

"imagine that " Ginny continued, "What would Madame Pomfry say to that"

Hermoine laughed harder, the tears now starting to come this time from laughing so hard

"do you think they have a potion for Chronic-Foot-In-Mouth" Ginny was now laughing so hard that it had not gone unnoticed by Ron, who glancing over at the laughing pair, wondered if now was a good time to leave and go up to Griffiddor Tower to bed

"I guess.. if.. not," she was now finding it hard to get the words out "they might...have to get...someone...from..St Mungos!"

The pair now were in such a racous state that neither of them had noticed the approach of a certain young man in a dark suit.

"Granger" the man stated her name, formal but with less of his usual malice.

Suddenly Hermoine was still, her hand over her mouth, both supressing her laugh and her uncertainty about what Malfoy could want at this moment.

Neither girl spoke.

"Would you allow me the next dance?" he questioned her, his eyes ever intense, focused in on her brown eyes, his face not betraying any reason for his request, his had outstretched.

For a moment Hermoine was too stunned to speak.

Then remembering Ron's admonishment for Hermoine's apparent fraternisation with "the enemy", she slowly removed her hand from her now silent mouth, glanced over at the clearly shocked Harry and Ron, who's mouths were currently agape at this unheard but clear exchange, and standing tall, an air of superior dignity coming back to her, looked Ron squarely in the eye and placed her hand into Malfoy's open hand, and with a small curtsey, consented". Malfoy gave a small smirk and a nod and turned on his heal, returning to where as equally dumbstruck Blaise and Pansy, sat opposite Harry and Ron.

Ron had by now turned a furious shade of red and rose from his seat, storming from the Great Hall without a word to Harry, who was unable to understand what on earth had just taken place. Quietly he stood up, and walked quickly after Ron.

Hermoine, for her part, was equally shocked. Without a word, she grabbed Ginny's arm and quickly matched her out of the Great Hall and round into the cloisters, pulling her into the shaddows

"Did I just agree to dance with Draco Malfoy?!" she quietly asked, her eyes wide with fear

Ginny whispered back "I think so! Now I'm wondering who spiked YOUR pumpkin juice" and the two quietly laughed from the surreal nature of the occurrance.

"I know Professor McGonagal said we should graciously accept invitations to dance and that all the men should be willing to dance with any lady who was without a dance partner, but I never thought Malfoy would ask ME and I certainly never thought I would be graciously accepting an invite from HIM" Hermoine whispered, the adrenaline in her veins causing her to feel her heart pounding in her chest as she realised she had just accepted an invitation from a true enemy.

"Well," Ginny began, grabbing the elbow of a now trembling Hermoine and pulling her back towards the Great Hall "you're now about to find out what thats like! Just go with it tonight, as you said, it is all about magical co-operation" she reminded her "after all you are both prefects, and clearly you would both be in contention for Head Girl and Head Boy one day, so maybe THAT is the reason enough to start fostering civility at formal occasions!" she reasoned.

A moment later, Malfoy was in front of her.

"Granger" he stated, his hand outstretched, as the band got ready to begin the next formal dance.

Hermoine could not move, she felt herself rooted to the spot. Looking round for sympathy, she found none, as Ginny had gone, and the room fell silent, as everyone watched in a mixture of awe, shock and, where the Slytherin's in attendence were concerned, barely hidden disgust.

Professor Flickwick raised his baton, the music began and silently, Malfoy pulled Hermoine into the first steps of the dance. Now Hermoine felt as though her heart was in her mouth, as she performed the movements as practiced with Professor McGonagol determined not to let Malfoy get the better of her. He looked into her eyes, a sly grin ever so slightly forming on his lips,

"whats the matter Granger? Never danced with a REAL man before?" he goaded her, as was their usual style of conversation

"whatever game you think you are playing right now Malfoy, I can assure you that you will not win" she retorted

"is that a challenge?" he asked, pulling her in closer

Hermoine felt herself stiffen, holding her breath, the comebacks in her mind, refusing to take form on her lips, as her eyes went to his mouth, as his lips came closer to hers, at the last moment he moved them to beside her ear

"pity Weasel had to up and leave" he whispered, his hot breathe on her neck.

Her eyes wide, she pulled away from him,

"what?!" she hissed, not hiding the tone of incredulity

Pulling her back into his body, and sliding his hand from her cheek down her body, before grabbing her waist and pulling her even closer to him, he continued "dont tell me that you were not hoping to rub his little snout in this alluring display as a retaliation for his earlier remarks" her pulse quicked as she felt his lips by her ear again "this was as much YOUR game as it was mine" he span her around three times before bringing her into his embrace "you just dont like that I called it" he finished, before dipping her so quick and so low, the gasps of everyone in the room could be heard above the final note of the music.

Suddenly they were both standing, Hermoine for her part was too shocked and embarrased to reply with any witty remark, and too humiliated to do anything other than burst into tears and run from the Great Hall. Malfoy was suddenly very much aware of his surroundings and the fact that the entire senior student body had just witnessed a very provocative version of the dance they had practiced for months performed by non other than Draco Malfoy and Hermoine Granger, the most unlikeliest of pairings.

His face contorting in a mixture of anguish and humiliation, he quickly returned his outward sneer as he stormed from the Great Hall.

By now, Hermoine was now sat on the steps where the first years had all gathered what seemed a lifetime ago to hear Professor McGonagol explain the sorting ceremony. It was here that the rivalry between Malfoy and Harry had begun, over Harry's snub of Malfoy's proffer of friendship.

At that time Malfoy had been raised to believe in pureblood supremacy but the more his father, Lucius Malfoy, pontificated about the Dark Lord, the more Draco Malfoy hoped that the rumours of the Dark Lord's return would amount to nought. Superiority was one thing, killing mudbloods was quite another and Draco was no child, he knew what it meant to be a Death Eater and that it was a one way ticket to Azkerban.

And yet even this caused him an inner turmoil. He had been raised to believe that mudbloods were exactly that- children with dirty blood, caused by interbreeding between wizards and muggles. That he as a pureblood child of one of the oldest aristocratic, would be above his peers, his talents and achievements far exceeding theres. And yet here was a witch, considered to be the brightest, most talented of his age, and she was muggle-born: a mudblood. He justified his hate as the true order of things and yet quietly he wondered if the teachings of his father were true, how was Granger able to match him and often exceed his abilities so frequently? The fact that she was so pretty wound him up even more. He frequently teased her about her hair, as much as he teased her about her parentage and her friends, but the truth of it was she was an enigma to him and damn was she hot when she was angry. This troubled him as much as it excited him and as much as it was the source of his flirtatious games it was the source of his rage.

She felt his presence without looking up; she could always feel his intense presence when he was about to rain down a tirade of abuse. But as the hot tears ran down her face while she silently cried, removing her shoes from her now aching feet, he had no retorts. He had quietly watched her earlier exchange with Weasley and seethed at the way he spoke to her, not sure if he was more pissed at Weasley for his treatment of her or "Saint Potter's" at his lack of defense of her. He now realised his treatment of her had been no better. He had assumed she would want to play Weasley as much as he did, after all he couldnt exactly go over and smack the weasel square in the jaw (as much as he would have enjoyed that) without explaining his actions to his house-mates who would more than likely be incensed enough to owl his father regarding such an outburst in defense of a mudblood. Instead he had further humiliated her. And now she was sat here crying, once again, because of his words and actions, not Weasley's.

She quietly waited for insults that would further wound her, but they never came. Looking up, she instead saw him proffer his handkerchief. For a moment they remained like this, neither moving, neither speaking. Slowly, she took the handkerchief, and dabbing her eyes, she rose to her feet

"Malfoy, you spoil everything" she simply said, without rage, without malice, but sadly, with a quiet sense of defeat. She turned and walked away. Quietly he watched her go, his insides knotting and making him feel sick. It wasnt like Hermoine to admit defeat. She could give as good as she got when she needed to, that was half the fun. Or she would walk away, refusing to lower herself, her apparent air of moral superiority fascinating as well as infuriating. His hands by his side, he felt himself open and close his fists, if this is what muggles meant when they talked of being "bewitched" then in that moment, he had been, body and soul, by the brightest witch of his age: Hermoine Granger

….

"What the FUCK was THAT?!" shouted Blaise, as he and a startled Pansy rounded the corner, spotting Malfoy stood on the stairs

Turning, Malfoy sneered at the pair "leave it" and began his descent towards the Slytherin dungeons.

"Draco…" called Pansy "Draco? Please?" she made to follow him but Blaise grabbed her wrist. Looking down at his hand and then up to his eyes, she silently questioned his actions, her eyes pleading with his to let her go after him.

Sighing,Blaise gently tugged her back in the direction of the Great Hall "you know Draco and his moods, there is no sense in following him, he will only push you further away if you do. Come on" and putting an arm around her shoulder, he gently lead her back into the ball.

The party was almost over, and the remaining couples were slowly dancing to the last song. Neville and Seamus had long finished their discussion and not wanting to let Ginny leave just yet, Neville had somehow found the courage to ask her to dance with him. Their minds were both elsewhere as they tried to understand just what had gone on earlier that evening and where on earth it had come from. Both were worried about Hermoine.

Upstairs, Hermoine had just reached the portrait hole and quietly muttered the password. The lady in the portrait noticed her tears, "lover's tiff?" she enquired as Hermoine crossed the threshold. She didnt reply to the enquiry, feeling the tears begin once more, it was only then that she realised she was still clutching Malfoy's handkerchief.


	2. Chapter 2

Not wanting to face the looks or questions of her housemates and most importantly not wanting a showdown with either Harry or Ron, or worse still, both, Hermoine rose early to go study in the library the following morning.

Finding a quiet corner where she hoped she would be able to avoid people for as long as possible, she found solitude and study a great source of solace for much of the day.

Most of the senior students were enjoying a lie in after the previous evening's frivolity, which Professor McGonagol had been pleased to acknowledge had, for the most part, been well mannered; the younger students were currently blissfully unaware of what had transpired. Hermoine was undisturbed for much of the morning. Totally absorbed in her potions essay, she failed to notice him come into the library and approach the alcove where she was working. He stood there in silence watching her work for a moment, noticing the way she chewed on her lip as she thoughtfully read, the way her nose scrunched up as she considered the subject matter, the way she brushed her loose curls back behind her left ear and she started to write….

He had been silently watching her like this, in these moments, for many weeks. All throughout the Tri Wizard Tournament. He didnt know when he had started to notice her like this, he just had. No. That wasnt entirely true, was it. He did know when he had started to view her in a different light. He reached his hand up to his cheek, and lightly touched where she had slapped him last year.

Suddenly he looked up and was startled by his presence. He quickly moved his hand up to his hair, brushing it back from his eyes, as he often did when wanting to appear confident to the girls.

"what do you want, Malfoy?" she quietly questioned him. Was it too much to get some peace from all this? she wondered. Then she wondered what this was

"Granger" he began, "no hard feelings yea?" he said quietly, rather hoping no one else could hear this exchange

At first she didnt reply, so he turned about to leave

"Why?"

"What?" he replied, not turning back

"Why did you do it?" she continued

"Thought that obvious Granger" he sneered "and they say you are bright" he started to walk away.

Rushing from her seat, she caught up with him and reached for his arm. He flinched at her touch

"mud-"

"dont" she hissed

He felt the anger rising. Who was she to speak to him like this? He supressed his building rage "...Granger…"

"Hermoine" she corrected

"What?!" he was feeling it build again. Was was she to do this to him?

"Thats my name" she whispered

He felt the waves of nausea as his emotions collided within himself. Never mind inner turmoil, this was torture. Well ok, not exactly an unforgiveable curse, and thanks to Lucius, he would know, but not how he wanted to go round feeling, especially about a muggle-born witch

"Dont accept whatever half assed apology Weasel comes up with later, he isnt worth it." he told her, before stridding quickly out of the library, leaving Hermoine confused and stunned.

…..

It had been weeks since the Yule Ball. Christmas had come and gone and not a word had passed between Hermoine and Ron, and Hermoine and Harry were barely talking. Most people had forgotten what had gone on and everyone was excited about the Tri Wizard Tournament. The final task was just a week away. Hermoine was sat in the common room, reading, when Ron came in, glaring at her. She could no longer take how he was making her feel. He had been watching her, quietly and openly seething, all through her classes, watching to see if she would show any further signs of...well he wasnt entirely sure WHAT is was he was watching for, but he was. And the minute either she or Malfoy followed up on what had transpired the night of the Ball, he would have something to say about it.

She could take no more of it. Gathering her things into her bag, she made her way quickly out of the common room, down the passage way, through the portrait hole, down the stairs, out into the grounds, heading for the lake just beyond Hagrid's hut.

It was raining when she left the castle, light at first, but now it was coming down quite heavy and she was soaked through without her cloak. She made her way along the edge of the lake through the woodland that surrounded it, until she found the clearing where Harry had cast his corporeal patronus last year.

She was somewhat out of breath and her bag was now at her feet, her breathing coming hard and fast. She finally stopped to catch her breath, her side aching. Suddenly she felt someone take her wrist. She spun round, wand in hand and gasped. It was Malfoy. She wasnt sure where he had been when he saw her rush out, or how long he had followed her but he was here now, his grey eyes shining.

"Merlin, Granger! Lower your wand" he said, as startled as she was.

"What are you doing here?!" she managed to say

Malfoy, normally the epitomy of confidence, was lost for words.  
He hadnt planned what to say, all he knew is that she had rushed past him with such determination that it had frightened him. He wanted to check she was alright. He wasnt sure how she would respond to such an enquiry, he was well away that he was Draco Malfoy, her long time foe, but he had been so scared by the look on her face that he felt he should inquire regardless. Now he could not find the words, they would not form in his mouth.

"I love you… most ardently" he gasped, as shocked to hear himself say it as she was to hear it.

She didnt respond, her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Her brain, usually quick and sharp with the wit, failed to comprehend his admission.

"Gra….Hermoine" he whispered, "I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to the Yule Ball with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth, my rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony."

Hermoine gasped "I dont understand"

Malfoy sneered at her "and they say you are the brightest witch of our age….how can you say "I dont understand" when I am making it quite clear, Granger"

She noticed he still had hold of her wrist, snatching it from his grasp she laughed "i appreciate your "struggle" and I am sorry that I have caused YOU pain, but believe me, it was unconsciously done.

Her words were like a slap in the face to him, and he felt the same rage he had felt before, rise up within himself "you are laughing at me, rejecting me, ME, DRACO MALFOY"

Hermoine stood firm, her senses returning, her tongue sharpened.

"I am sure", she spat "that the circumstances that have hindered you thus far will help you "overcome" your feelings" she turned her back on him. The rain was coming down quite hard now, her curls damped to her head, his hair now wild as he spun her round by her shoulder, his grey eyes now hardened to her

"Might I ask why you find my sentiments so repulsive"

"I might as you why you insult me and tell me you like me against your better judgement" she retorted, her rage now matching his

"how could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your birth, you filthy little mudblood" he pushed her away, his words now stinging her as much as if he had struck her across the face as she remembered the way he made her feel the first time he uttered those despicable words.

She turned her back on him, not wishing him to witness her open sorrow.

This was not how he had imagined this conversation taking place. Ok, he wasnt sure it would ever, could ever, take place any differently but nonetheless, he had come here with hopes of soothing her, not making her feel more sadness.

Neither spoke for a while.

"Hermoine…" he began "...you know what my families expectations are, you know what ive been brought up to believe, who I am expected to one day be. Id gladly give it all up for you" he sighed.

The silence was painful for him. He reached out towards her shoulder, and sensing his movement she flinched. He pulled back his arm, for a moment unsure what to do or say.

She turned her head slightly

"Draco?"

"yes? he whispered, stepping forward slightly

"you are the last person it could ever be prevailed upon me to love" she answered, turning away again.

He turned to leave, then suddenly he was close behind her, she felt a warmth spread across her shoulders as he wrapped his cloak around her. As he leaned into her hair, he felt her sharp intake of breath, and breathing in her scent, his lips close to her ear he whispered "forgive me Hermoine, for taking up so much of your time"

and with that he was gone.

Hermoine spun round but she didnt know which way he had gone. Picking up her bag, she made her way slowly back to the castle.

…

Without a word, Hermoine crossed the Giffindor common room with her head held high. Everyone around her hushed their conversations, uncertain if there would be another Granger/Weasley showdown.

She was just about to head to the dorms when she almost walked head long into Ron, coming out to the common room. The tension was palpable. A momentary flicker of hope crossed both their faces, but stubborn as ever, neither was ready to let the other win by backing down. Both let out a groan of frustration and anger, before storming off to where each had been headed.

Ron was about to storm out of the common room when he saw Ginny, who had only just remembered to breath, sitting on one of the sofas. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked down at her.

"Where did she get that cloak from" he asked his sister through gritted teeth

"um...i...have no idea…" she quietly replied

"and to think," he chuckled derisively, "I thought the enemy she was interested in was Krum"

….

With tears once more in her eyes, Hermoine flopped down onto her bed. It was only then, that she realised what should have been completely obvious. She was wearing his cloak.

Pulling it round herself tightly, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent before falling asleep.

Some time later, Hermoine was woken by the sound of tapping, coming from the window by her bed. Opening the window, she was suprised to find an eagle owl with a letter in its beak. The letter had her name on it.

Thanking the bird, she watched it fly away into the night before closing the window. She had never seen this bird before and wondered who's it could be. Turning the letter over, she ran her fingers over the wax seal that bore the Malfoy family crest. For a moment she was unsure if she should read it or burn it. But curiosity got the better of her.

"Dearest Hermoine

Do not be alarmed by this letter, I shall not repeat the admission you found so disgusting earlier today. I do not write to cause you more pain. I have witnessed the depth of sorrow that you have suffered recently and it pains me to know I only increased this for you. I am aware that I am a source of constant suffering for you, that my previous character and behaviour have condemned me by your judgment. But I strive to overcome my flaws in the hope of one day being a better a man...I will not become my Father

Yours

Draco


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days seemed to blur into one for Hermione, as the final task approached. She was anxious for Harry and he too was nervous about the challenge. Little was know about what it would involve but an eager excitement gripped the students of the representative and host schools.

The night before the task Hermione was sat in the common room, quietly turning over the events of the last few months in her mind. She wasnt sure if she was more disconcerted about Harry's challenges or the new found angst that threatened to engulf her heart. She tried to push thoughts of strange encounters and baffling letters to the back of her mind. She had no idea what had suddenly altered for her long standing foe to be whispering confessions or lingering looks across classrooms, and the thoughts chewed at her core as she tumbled them over in her mind.

With no more confrontations and the electric buzz of the atmosphere of the common room, Harry and Ron had relaxed a little around Hermione. The pair now sat in front of her on one of the sofas that sat in the middle of the room. Sensing her apprehension and anxiety, Harry stole a glance at her.

A moment passed between Harry and Hermione, both with questions but before either could ask what was troubling the other, Ron interrupted

"Nervous mate?" he questioned his best friend

"Would be lying if I said I wasnt"

"Its gonna be fine, and you're the favourite to win, Fred and George have good odds for your success….and" he lowered his voice "I think they are planning one of their famous celebrations for when you get back"

Hermione rolled her eyes

 _Boys_

….

Several floors below in the Slytherine dungeons, Draco paced nervously across his room. His housemates were all in their common room allowing him the solitude he craved. His thoughts troubled him, gnawing at his psyche as he pondered the troubling prospect of answering the letter. Snape had come to see him hours earlier to convey Dumbledore's message. His father had sent a summons and he was required at home this evening. The enigmatic headmaster had given Draco an out. He was willing to inform Lucius that it was not possible for him to leave at this moment but he had left it down to Draco to decide.

His father was due to arrive tomorrow, as a school governor his attendance at school events was as necessary for his appearance as it was required by the school. It was inevitable therefore that he would require and thus demand an audience with his only son during his stay, therefore Draco was apprehensive about the summons. He did not wish to go however he knew all too well what defiance of his father resulted in.

Sighing, he resigned himself to the unavoidable and made his way to Snape's office to inform him of his decision.

Some time later, Lucius was nursing a tumbler of firewhiskey in his study when his wretched house-elf appeared. He despised the sudden interruption, and with his trade mark sneer muttered "what?"

"sorry Master, Rolly only wished to inform Master, that the young Master has arrived home" the timid house-elf quickly informed him

"fine!" he snapped "get out!"

Click

The house-elf was gone

Rising from his seat he grabbed his cane and stalked to the door with a determined stride. Now he would make sure his offspring knew what it meant to be a Malfoy.

…..

Draco had not turned from the fire, his eyes watching the flames, his expression stoic as his Father finished telling him what was to transpire.

He said nothing, giving no indication of hearing, nor compliance.

He felt his mind quieten like being stood in the eye of the storm.

The ice around his heart hardened.

A brief flutter of something reminiscent of honeydew and amber tempted the ice to melt. His conscious self refused to heed to the subconscious pull. In his soul he knew what the flutter meant and his pushed thoughts of Autumn to the very back of his skull as his Father stepped closer to him.

"you understand dont you?" his Father's eerie reverie interrupting the nothingness that clouded his mind, his voice commanding his son to forgo his innocence.

"it is required. You must ascent to this Draco. This is what it means to be a Malfoy. You have no choice. This is your birthright.

Draco turned around. He wasnt sure when he had become as tall as his Father, but he was no longer looking up in fear as a child at his commanding Father, but looking directly into his eye, while his Father offered him the pride he had been searching for, the chance to be his equal.

His thoughts were interrupted by his Mother whom he had forgotten sat in stonie silence on the couch behind him.

"if you dont, he will kill us all" she stated in a low voice, her face unchanged but her eyes pleading.

He didnt know how it had come to this. One minute he had been on the brink of renouncing his family for the sake of his love and the next he was choosing between that life, any life and death. He allowed thoughts of her to seep into his conscious mind. He sneered at his own innocence and naivety.

He resolved to bury her deep within his soul.

With a small nod, he confirmed his ascent to his Father, kissed his mother farewell on the cheek and returned to the fireplace ready to return to Hogwarts.

A/N

Thanks for taking time to review, sorry this chapter is rather short. Yes I agree it is rather quick in the first two chapters but trying to show a more innocent, pre-return Draco, who up until he became a death eater was just a misguided mean spirited youth with a tendency towards bullying Hermione. All four had to grow up very quickly after the return of You-Know-Who but before this I think its quite nice to explore an innocent crush which is forbidden because of prejudices over blood status. I quite like the idea of Draco as someone who has an almost Romantic idea of hierarchy in society as I think thats where his trouble accepting the poisoned chalice comes from... it makes me think of Nazi Germany, where people blindly followed right wing propaganda but didnt quite realise at first that it was result in a massive genoicide... anyway thats my thoughts... hope you like it :)


	4. Chapter 4

Draco knew in his mind what he needed to do but he wasnt sure he could summon the courage to do it. He had sworn he would not turn into his Father whose lust for power had seemed to have driven him to the depths of insanity. He had agreed to a fate he had sworn that he would deny. The muscles in his chest constricted tightly and he struggled to breathe. Grasping the sink in the bathroom, he forced himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. He had aged and not even realised. He was still only a boy of 14 but he stood metaphorically on the precipice of manhood; his coming of age as his Father had told him. Somewhere in the limbo between childhood innocence and adulthood.

Hermione had been walking along the corridor on her way back to Griffindor Tower when she saw him coming towards her, his movements forceful and he stalked down the corridor with purpose. He spotted her and the same time as she had spotted him, and it stopped them in their tracks. His heart was pounding in his chest while hers was fluttering into her mouth. He wore a pained expression and she for the life of her could not understand why. She stepped forward, her mouth open slightly and he couldnt bear the way she was looking at him. The serenity of her countenance was broken by a confused furrow in her brow. Draco felt his head pounding, the blood throbbing in his temple. He stepped sideways into the bathroom and Hermione grimaced at the bang of the door as he slammed it shut.

For a moment she was rooted to the spot, confused, frightened, unsure of how to proceed. She inwardly chucked at her own not knowing because everyone assumed she was the know-it-all witch. How wrong they were she thought, ironically, I hardly ever know what to do. She inched forward, her footfalls timid, her gait unsteady with uncertainty. Her head started to scream at her

what are you doing?

Her heart and soul argued back. She needed to find out what was troubling him.

He knew he had only been there moments but it felt like he had been staring at his reflection for hours. He leaned over the sink unsure if he would start retching any moment, the nausea in his stomach and head starting to make him feel dizzy. The bile was rising in his throat as he reached for the tap. He turned it on and felt the frigid water fall on his hands before splashing some on his face.

He didnt hear her come in but he knew she was there. He could feel her presence, her eyes burning into his back. He looked up into the mirror in a silent reply to her unasked question.

"Malfoy, a-are-"she began

"What do you want, Granger?" he spat, glaring at her reflection

"i..i just wanted to see if you were ok" she replied quietly, her fingers figetting as the looked down at her feet

"leave me alone" he replied, his voice so low, she almost didnt hear him. Looking up she realised he was now facing her, his shirt wet from where he had splashed his face, it clung to his chest and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"I said, Leave me ALONE!"

She winced as he crossed the bathroom in two quick strides and slammed the palm of his hand against the wall behind her

"I just want to help" she whispered

She watched as he took in what she said, and she could have sworn that behind his seemingly cold, grey eyes, she had seen the flicker of indecision over a retort or confession.

"I dont need your help" he drooled "I have to do this!" his words quiet but insistent

"do what?" she returned, her eyes searching his for any clue as to what troubled him so.

"you wouldnt understand" he said, in his characteristic low voice

"try me" she begged, her eyes pleading, as she slowly raised her hand, cupping his cheek. She had expected him to draw back from her touch, she didnt understand herself why she was offering support let alone this intimate gesture. Almost imperceptibly he leaned into her hand for the briefest of moments before grabbing her wrist tightly

"leave it Granger, you and your little Griffindor friends should keep their fucking noses out of things or you wouldnt find yourselves or drag the rest of us into so much shit" he spat, before shoving her roughly out of his way.

Hermione felt herself crumple to the floor at his words, she had no idea what he meant but he knew who she meant. She tried to suppress the sob that threatened to come out of her mouth, choking back her tears, refusing to give in to his little games. Clearly this was all a game to him and she was done playing.

With all her resolve fastened, she rose quickly and exited the bathroom, knowing that the next time she encountered him she would have some short sharp shrift to deliver, but not expecting it to come so soon. Outside the bathroom, Draco stood with his back to the wall, his eyes closed, his breathing fast and rapid as he tried, in vein, to stop the surge of adrenaline and calm down. Glaring at him, his eyes snapped open as he again sensed her presence, her emotions sparking wildly. She absolutely had no idea how much her temper thrilled him. It was part of why he often sought her out for a battle of wits and retorts; she was never more beautiful to him than when she was angry. This knowledge filled him with self loathing but there it was, out in the open of his conscious mind as he realised what it was that made her so alluring to him.

"I dont know what little sick twisted thoughts go on in that head of yours Malfoy" she began "but whatever _this_ is, it is finished" she told him.

He stepped forward from the wall, which until now had been holding him up.

"Is it?" he questioned, stepping closer to her

Hermione took a step back "yes it is. We are done"

"so its done is it?" he took another step forward

"yes" not sounding as sure as she had hoped or tried to feel

"finally" he leered, his face only inches from hers.

She tried not to focus on his lips, or how in less than five minutes she had been moments from kissing him twice.

"Finally" she breathed, the battle between heart and mind fiercely being fought in her soul. His lips came closer, slowly and she could feel his hot breath on her. She hated the fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. His lips grazed hers for a millisecond, before she pulled herself away as though she had been burned. Without another word she took off, running towards the tower and the comfort of her solitude.

He inwardly groaned in frustration, but he was unsure if he was just frustrated about the near kiss or the multitude of what he would need to do. Turning on his heel, he silently made his way back to the dungeons. A plan was bubbling at the edges of his mind, and he needed to think, away from thoughts of her, about how he was going to resolve the situation he now found himself in because of his Father.


	5. Chapter 5

She wasnt sure how she had got here. Literally or figuratively. Shivering, she hugged her knees close together as she sat on the jetty by the boat house. It was well past curfew, but Hermione didnt care. She was tired. Tired and confused. Tired of being so bloody perfect, living up to everyone elses damned expectations all the bloody time. Tired of Draco bloody Malfoy.

 _And_ _confused_ , she reminded herself.

Confused about what had been going on. She told herself she didnt bloody care. Whatever the hell Malfoy was up to, she Did. Not. Care.

At all.

It was his problem.

If Harry wanted to carry on brooding over whatever the hell it was that Malfoy was up to this year, then that was His problem. Why did she have to get herself involved?

She didnt remember coming out here, she just found herself out here, staring over the water, trying to make sense of it all. She needed to find perspective. Yes, that was what she needed. Perspective. She always seemed to lose it when she needed it most. Ironic really, she thought to herself.

The chill of the air got to her as the breeze came up across the Black Lake catching her hair and taking her breath away. Standing, she took a deep breath, aiming to reassure herself, but feeling even more perturbed that it came out as a deep sigh.

…

Draco lay in bed, awake, which, he thought wryly, was nothing new. He could not remember the last time he had slept soundly. But then how was he supposed to with the weight pressing down on his mind, like a lead weight dragging his thoughts down into a cavernous abyss. He tried not to think, Merlin how he tried. The silence of his mind was almost as troubling as the dark thoughts that swam constantly when he did allow himself to think. So he starred at the ceiling night after night. Trying to think and to not think. It left him with a permanent migraine that pressed into every crevice of his skull. There seemed to be no logic or chronology to his thoughts. They were as random as the nightmares that plagued him in his fitful bouts of sleep. He wasnt sure which was worse, the nightmares induced by his semi comatosed state or the migraine-inducing insomnia. Slowly rising with a dejected sigh, he placed his feet softly onto the frigid stone flag flooring of the dungeon dormitory. He had taken to wandering the corridors at night when the insomnia became too much for him to bear.

Silently he stalked, careful not to alert anyone to his presence in the shaddows. With no route in mind, he traced a unique path each evening, going wherever his bear-foot padding took him. Suddenly his psyche was screaming silently in his mind, no noise or presence that he was consciously aware of, he tried to push down the fear the now flooded his mind roaring like an inferno. He glanced around, perplexed as to what had alerted his senses, but felt nothing more than a slight draft and a bearly there waft of fragrance. It clouded his frontal lobe in a disturbing manner as he tried to identify the aroma. He was suddenly very aware of his proximity to the Griffindor Tower. He normally avoided the corridors that lead to this particular tower, usually finding himself at the top of the astronomy tower, standing on the platform, feeling the wind on his face as he stood with his eyes closed, his hands clasped behind his back, silently contemplating all that troubled him. To find himself here, of all places, was truly unnerving.

For a moment he continued to stand there trying to place the fragrance he had noticed a moment ago. It was sweet but not in a saccharin way. A mild, pleasing sweet. It reminded him of spring but with an undertone of autumn. An almost woodland aroma, but not musky. His mind continued to flick through an invisible catalogue and he knew instinctively he was close to identification. Yes, it was unmistakeable now. Cherry wood and vanilla. This realisation brought about no epiphany as he had no inclination as to the source of the sudden invasion. It was a strange anti climax that brought about an unnerving feeling that allowed no closure. Why he should notice a bearly-there aroma that attacked his senses to the core was beyond logical reasoning, just like his proximity to this particular tower. The alarm in his frontal lobe was now sounding so loudly that it overwhelmed him. He turned and fled, quickly retracing his steps to the dungeon, aiming to get there as quickly as possibly without alerting anyone to his presence beyond the confines of his dormitory.

Laying back down, more disturbed now than he had been before leaving the bed, he felt a strange feeling wash over him. It was a strange mix. Like drinking a strong dark espresso laced with dreamless sleep potion. It was potent and while his mind raced, exhaustion wracked his body. His mind clawed at consciousness while his body fought against his sleep deprived state, betraying the mind forcing his eyelids to close, plummeting him into a deep state of unconsciousness.

A single thought drifted across his psyche, reminiscent of the way words appeared on Snape's board at the start of the lesson, as he crossed the classroom, his wand fixed on the board. The gentle scrawl reminded him that Granger smelt of cherry wood and vanilla.

….

Several floors above, in the Griffidor common room, Hermione stowed away Harry's cloak. Her heart was in her mouth, adrenaline coursing through her veins, her mind screaming 1001 alarming remonstrations as she silently scolded herself. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not noticed him walking along the corridor outside the entrance to Griffindor Tower. She had been just inches away from him when she realised, a slight gasp leaving her mouth, almost betraying her presence to him. She had silently clasped her hand to her mouth as he tried to identify what had set of the caterwalling that was no doubt sounding loudly in his head. The expression of horror and alarm had contorted his face to begin with, but she watched as it changed slowly to one of perplexion and then, to one she did not recognise, although something in the back of her psyche was trying to identify it. He had then turned and fled past her, keen to be away from the area, as much as she, though Hermione had been rooted to the spot for some time, gradually becoming aware of the fact that she had been holding her breath. Slowly she started released her mouth from her hand and willed her breathing to resume. She quietly muttered the password to the Fat Lady, who groogily permitted her entrance. Climbing into bed, her subconscious was trying to alert her conscious mind to what it had identified, working under its layers of conscious adrenaline.

If she had been more awake, she might have had the presence of mind to be disturbed by a pre-sleep thought of Snape. She had always found the odd Professor unnerving to every sense of her being. Her eyes closing, she was briefly aware of a semi conscious dream of being in his classroom, looking at his board as letters formed in his familiar script. The last thought that crossed her psyche as she drifted towards the dream was recognition of what she had witnessed in that final expression on his face:

he had smelt her perfume.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the day of the last task. Everyone was excited and the whole student body was clamouring for the best seats in the stadium that had been erected next to the maze. Huddled in their house groups, wrapped in their brightly coloured scarves, they waited with growing impatience as Dumbledore explained the rules to the wizards who were about to embark on the final challenge. Professors, governors, invited guests and students shared a sense of pride and cheer and Fred and George mingled among them, selling their wares, and offering odds on the results.

Hermione sat next to Ginny and Ron, clasping her hands together, seemingly the only person feeling a growing sense of foreboding. The task sounded simple enough: enter the maze, find the cup, bring it back to the judges, be crowd the Tri Wizard Champion. But Hermione knew nothing was ever that simple. The tasks had not only tested the champions in the most profound, if not cruel way, they had tested their friendships and loyalties along the way. She pondered the growing sense that this had been their toughest year at Hogwarts so far, she had experienced long periods of intense feelings of loneliness. She wondered if this was part of what it meant to grow up, to go through periods of intense changes as she left behind the innocence and awe that she had felt in her first three years here. Maybe that was why she found her thoughts pulled towards Malfoy in such an unnerving way.

She thought back to his pronouncements earlier in the year. She had rejected them for it seemed absurd to her that someone who had taunted her and her friends with such cruelty previously could seemingly overnight be telling her his feelings were the exact opposite. But as she considered this, she also thought back to when she was 8 and Bobby Finmore had pulled her hair in the playground and made her cry. Her mother had comforted her and then said, with a twinkle in her eye, sometimes boys are mean to girls because they secretly liked them but didnt want their mates to think they were soft. Had that been what it was all about? Did he care so much about his image as the Malfoy heir that he had been effectively pulling her hair in the playground to make her cry so that his Slytherin friends would not think he soft? She of course, despite being seen as the type-A personality know-it-all, had no answer. But this thought continued to sit in the back of her mind.

Maybe, she reasoned with herself, was why she had been concerned with his sudden change in behaviour and the way he had acted that day in the bathroom. She still didnt know what had made her go in there and confront him or why she had compassionately offered support to someone who had been so callous to her previously. She wondered if she had previously been too hard in her assumptions of him, after all what had he actually done to her other than offer snide remarks and taunts about her heritage. Was he really the personification of evil? again she had no answer, but she did consider "briefly that maybe she had a child-like view of this aswell. Recalling what Harry and Ron had told her when they snuck into the dungeons second year disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, thanks to polyjuice potion, she quickly dismissed her thoughts: it was pretty evil to wish someone dead simply for being a muggle-born witch, even if you were trying to show off to your goons.

Sensing her quiet brooding, Ron turned to her and whispered "are you alright?". Initially startled, she pushed her thoughts to one side, flashed him a quick smile and replied

"yes, im just nervous for Harry"

Ron accepted this answer, knowing how much she worried sometimes

"he'll be fine! you watch, it wont be long before he comes out with that cup and we will be celebrating his victory before you know it!" he chuckled

Hermione wasnt so sure.

…..

Draco sat in the shadows, waiting. Despite his proclamations earlier in the year that Cedric Diggory would win and that Potter Stinks!, he was certain that Potter would be the one to grasp the cup. He wasnt entirely sure how it had been done, his Father was always guarded when it came to the finer details. He now knew that the contest was fixed. It was a set up. The hows were unimportant. it was all about the why. And Merlin, he knew why. That much had been made clear. He only had a small window of opportunity and while he loathed to put anything that resembled faith in the Boy Who Frequently Pissed Him Off, he wasnt stupid: he knew this was the only way to alter the course of events. He hated that he was in this position. He blamed his Father, for putting his lust for power before his wife and child. For putting their lives at risk, and for forcing him to make this choice. He was the reason he was here.

As far as he was concerned if he had the choice he would leave Potter to sort his own mess out. He had a nasty habit of getting himself unnecessary attention and this was the result- others being in danger. But he reminded himself quietly the dual purpose of his plan. It was a risk. A gamble. If it didnt pay off, he and his mother would be in mortal danger. But, he reasoned, it was a calculated risk. And if it worked it would prove that he had not lied to _her_.

Suddenly he spotted Potter and he knew he had no time for taunts, his window would be slight, the moment would only be there for him to grab briefly. The cup glowed and Potter ran towards it, his eyes lit up with a possessive awe. The wind howled through the maze, which altered its pathways as he neared his quarry. Wand in hand, he was sprinting, trying to avoid the roots which attempted to pull him back, the wind picking up pace, roaring like a hurricane.

Malfoy watched Potter slow his pace just an arms length away from the cup, taking it in for a moment. Gripping his own wand, he knew he had to time this right and not startle Potter. He watched Potter's Adam's apple as he swallowed hard. And then came the moment.

Harry registered only two thoughts as his hand gripped the handle on the right of the cup. The first was a realisation that the cup was a portkey. As it rapidly began its transportation of him to Merlin knew where, the second thought was something akin to a mixture of shock and horror as he realised a hand had darted out of the shadow at the same moment he had taken hold of it to grasp the handle on the left side of the cup.

His mind screamed one horrified, confused word:

Malfoy?

...

A/N

Thanks for the reviews, it is greatly appreciated to have feedback on this :)

I am hoping this chapter goes to explain why they both, and particularly Hermione have been behaving the way they have. Hermione is just as confused about her sudden change as you! I am trying to show a less grown up, more hormone induced pendulum swing of emotions (because Hermione has a greater range than that of a teaspoon ;) ) because this is certainly how I remember being at 14 (which is there age in Goblet of Fire- not 12, Rita!) and one minute I HATED boys and the next I was struck down with a compassion for even the most loathe-some of my peers) and while she did take to heart the way he was in second year, she is a very compassionate person who strives to see the good in everyone...well ok, maybe not Voldermort, but I think she would even have had a mother hen approach to Tom Riddle who's vulnerability (which is the root of what makes him dangerous) would have made him seem like he had a soul worth redeeming (before he split it of course). I try to remember that Dumbledore saw a troubled, misguided youth who still had good in him and I think there would have been moments when Hermione saw this too... off course this is AU so maybe she has a lot more time to herself (because she is arguing with Harry and Ron so much this year) to think about this philosophically...

Glad this is being enjoyed and im excited to see where this is heading too! I confess I havent got it all planned out and i have many ideas floating around in my head, but i just let it flow as I type so I dont always know where Im going with what Im saying...maybe im just mad haha

Final note: Heartbroken to hear of Alan Rickman's passing yesterday, so many heart-felt tributes to him just have me in floods of tears every time I read them. Such a loss because he was such a great man.

/* #always


	7. Author Update

Dear Lovely Readers

Im sorry this isnt a chapter update, but an A/N to let you know that this fic will shortly be taken down so that I can rework it and hopefully come back with a new and improved version of this story. I wanted to give those of you who are following for chapter updates a chance to follow me as an author so you dont miss out when I am ready to post this.

In the meantime I am currently working on two Dramione series, one set in Hogwarts and the other set Post-Hogwarts. I am aiming to blend some of my fics together to form the series'. The Hogwarts one starts with The Power of the Diary and the Post Hogwarts one is a mystery series that starts with the prequel to Afternoon Tea at Malfoy Manor, entitled M for Murder and will tie in with the 3 part drabble, Welcome to Venice.

I hope you will enjoy reading these as much as I am enjoying writing them :)

I am indebted to the lovely Torigingerfox and XxDustnight88 for their encouragement, support, Italian lessons and sound-boarding - I can honestly say that without these two fantastic ladies I wouldnt be writing! Together with Lineswifty they make up my admin panel at Dramione FanFiction Forum on Facebook which has provided me with much laughter, witty banter and a whole lot of creative inspiration-some of it based on a joke, most of it based on the inspiration that naturally flows from a well run group :)

Live, Laugh, Love

Lizzie (Dramione84)


End file.
